


Lycomedes

by Ancient_Dee_Cyphers



Series: Dream SMP Shorts [2]
Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Being president is hard, Brainwashing, Depressed TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Dream is manipulative, Gen, Muteness, Schlatt and Wilbur are only really mentioned through parallels, Tubbo finds the pillar, Tubbo is stressed, Villain Tommyinnit (Video Blogging RPF), VillainInnit, mute tommyinnit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:55:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28276437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ancient_Dee_Cyphers/pseuds/Ancient_Dee_Cyphers
Summary: Tubbo was so ready to see Tommy again. It had been weeks! He really didn't mean for it to take so long, but presidency is rough. Who could blame him?He really couldn't have anticipated the consequences, but maybe he could have?Maybe he should have.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Series: Dream SMP Shorts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090169
Comments: 10
Kudos: 194





	Lycomedes

Tubbo felt exhilarated. It was almost as though all the motivation and care that he lost when casting off Tommy had suddenly rushed back and he found himself possessing more than enough energy to visit his dear friend. His ally in war. His brother.

He really didn’t have any good reason to delay visiting Tommy, but he supposed it was a matter of principle. He was a leader and liked it or not, he needed to set an example. An example that said Tommy was too dangerous to be around. 

But he didn’t really believe that. No, in fact, losing his best friend felt like losing his whole heart. And he carved it out himself.

Regardless, today felt right. Tubbo let his legs stretch as long as they were able as he ran, racing against the wind to the Nether Hub. He felt laughter rise out of him and he felt as though he were soaring on clouds, far above L’Manburg and all the pressures of presidency. He felt very much like the kid he was meant to be. He felt like he did before even the Revolution.

If wings spread out just behind his shoulder blades, he wouldn’t be surprised. He felt free and his heart felt full.

Why hadn’t he visited Tommy before? Truly, he had no answer. Too much work, too much stress, too much pressure. They all seemed like excuses to him. He had no reason to offer except guilt and a fear that he would have to look in Tommy’s bright blue eyes and see not love, but cold betrayal.

Tubbo pointedly ignored the strange looks his citizens gave as they watched their president race down the pathway. He just kept running, ignoring the heaving of his lungs and the ache of his legs, as he jumped down into the shallow cropping that held the Nether Portal.

He skid to a halt inside the purple hued mirror and felt the world swim drunkenly around him. He felt dizzy with happiness and the kind of nervous excitement that made one want to run. He wanted to run - to fly. Dimension hopping was as close as he was destined to get to touching the clouds but he did not care.

Tubbo leaped out of the portal and felt only slightly overwhelmed as he bent over and clasped his hands on his knees, recatching his breath. He had forgotten how jarring dimension hopping was as he hadn’t had the energy to move for weeks. The intense and acrid stench of the Nether caught him off guard as well.

He found himself struggling to draw in air as his lungs rejected the strong sulfuric gas that was ever-present in the Nether. He coughed harshly and suddenly, for a brief moment, an image flashed in his head.

It was of a ram hybrid in a business suit, hacking up lungfuls of air as his body began to give out. He thought of Schlatt and that gave him pause.

Very suddenly, as though possessed by the terrible thought of the former president, Tubbo straightened and immediately stifled his cough though his lungs ached. He would not resemble that man in any regard. He refused. No one could tell him he was like Schlatt because he would never sink that far. Never.

Deliberately, Tubbo forced onward through the sulfuric clouds of ash and gravel despite the fact that his lungs protested every movement. 

Still, he felt a defiant joy. He would see Tommy and nothing would stop him. They would hug and reunite and do all the good things they used to do except in a different place. A new place. A new beginning. Far away from L’Manburg and any responsibility. A place that was blessedly just theirs and theirs alone. Logstedshire.

The path to Logstedshire was very narrow and rickety. Gravel fell from the ceiling and dusted Tubbo’s chestnut hair in gray flakes. They did not help his lungs either as he further attempted to stifle the urge to cough. The unbearable heat from the lava below nipped at his legs from underneath his navy blue slacks and he could feel a light burn begin to appear. Nothing unusual for the Nether, however.

Cautiously he made his way across the bridge to a covered ledge that revealed the portal to Logstedshire. Tubbo shook out the gravel flakes and dusted off his uniform, ignoring the gray smudges that appeared in its place. He’d deal with it later.

With another burst of nervous excitement, he leaped into the portal and stood tall as the world once again swam before him. 

With a huge breath of relief, Tubbo reappeared in the Overworld and collapsed onto the grass for a moment. He relished the slight cool in the wind and salty tang of the sea. He always hated the Nether. Dirt smudged on his ashen hands and he laughed slightly. He was here. Tommy was here. They were home.

Tubbo stood up, ready to greet his long-time friend with a smile and hear the barking laughter that he missed so dearly. But when his blue eyes looked up from the ground and above the portal-

To say he was devastated would be an understatement. To say shocked would be even more so.

The land was completely torn up. Fresh scars burned through the land and he once again smelt sulfur sting his lungs but he could not suppress the hacking fit that followed. He coughed and coughed and closed his eyes, praying it to be a flashback or a dream, but when he opened them again the sight hadn’t changed. 

A massive crater stood where Logstedshire once had. Bits of sheared woods still stood as a solemn reminder of the ruins that once were. He felt ill.

The dirt still fell away in slightly damp clumps to the pit below. Small embers crackled in the surviving logs and the grass surrounding was singed black. 

Tubbo shook his head. Surely this explosion was just another one of Tommy’s fits! He was prone to those, not unlike his late brother, Wilbur. Another reason why he needed to be exiled, no other reason. He still needed to sort out his head a bit.

A small part of Tubbo’s mind flashed images of a crazed WIlbur Soot with wide brown eyes and a high pitched, desperate tone. Embers flickering in his irises and ash coating his hands. Sulfur burning his lungs- 

He shook his head once more. Tommy was not like Wilbur.

There was another explanation for this. There simply had to be. Perhaps a creeper came by a bit too close. Was it a bit large and messy for a standard explosion? Sure! But, this was a different country. Perhaps the mobs were stronger than your average sort?

Doubt whispered in his mind. He pointedly ignored it and kept his hopes held high.

Tommy had a tent from his first few nights before Ghostbur and appeared and helped him. Tubbo remembered Ranboo reporting as much. He simply had to look for it. It couldn’t be far.

But as his blue eyes raked across the land, he saw nothing but another, much smaller crater. That was not the tent, reasoned Tubbo. How would both of his shelters be gone at once? That’s a ludicrous idea. Surely he must have missed it or it was somewhere else.

Tommy in all his classic defiance must’ve built it miles away! 

Tubbo fought the growing weight in his stomach and forced his legs onward to climb up a cliff that led to the ocean. A greater vantage point meant he would see better. He took out the compass that hung under his suit on a chain around his neck and set it level against his navel. He ran a calloused thumb over the engraving, “My Tommy”, as he waited for the needle to set.

It twitched, and twitched, and twitched until it settled West. Behind him. Towards the ocean. 

Cautiously, he turned around and found himself facing against a dirt pillar that blocked his vision. He hadn’t noticed it in his desperation to find Tommy.

Even more cautiously, he looked up and watched the pillar climb higher and higher and higher until it kissed the clouds above. Hay bales and cobble blocks were used at a certain height and it just kept going. Endlessly. Forever it climbed. He marveled at the ridiculousness of it. Why would anyone build a tower this big unless out of boredom or-

No. No. No. That’s ridiculous.

“Surely not,” he breathed without fully realizing it. “Why would- No.”

A sob tore through him before he even realized when he was so desperately rejecting. No way did he-

He couldn’t have! Not Tommy! It’s absurd!

Tubbo huffed a bitter laugh and he could feel his face heat up. Tears stung his eyes and his throat became thick with the taste of sulfur and metal. He refused. He simply refused.

Tommy wasn’t dead. He simply was not. Tommy wouldn’t jump.

So why couldn’t he get up? 

So why couldn’t he believe it?


End file.
